


Fracture

by Ghostmonument



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 11.5x02, Adventure, Drama, Family, Gen, I love her, Series 11.5, Thasmin if you squint, but it's true, hive mind baddies, is there an 'author is bad at tagging' tag?, original characters(minor), pocket universe, post-Resolution, pre-spyfall, tags to be added as I update, the doctor is a hypocrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostmonument/pseuds/Ghostmonument
Summary: After a brief stint back home in Sheffield, Yaz, Ryan and Graham are keen for a new adventure as they reunite with the Doctor. She takes them to the planet of Felcretion,  home to a small but advanced civilization which is in the midst of a New Year festival. The Doctor promises the trip to be casual, relaxed, and with absolutely no complications of the running-for-your-life sort. Well, there's a first time for everything right?
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Comments: 34
Kudos: 75
Collections: Season 11.5





	1. Chapter 1

“We couldn’t have done this somewhere warmer? Or drier?”

Yasmin Khan’s voice was muffled as it emanated from the collar of her fuzzy jacket, which was perhaps stripping her words of some amount of dignity. She didn't care. She shivered, stamping her feet and looking up and down the quiet street. She, Ryan and Graham were standing at the corner of a seemingly empty park, apparently the only three people in Sheffield willing to brave the miserable, drizzly winter morning. The occupants of passing cars surely looked at the trio askance, likely wondering what reason could possibly be good enough to compel someone to stand stationary in the wind and rain.  
  
Of course, they had a very good reason indeed. The best reason, really.  
  
They were waiting for the Doctor.  
  
“Why d’you reckon the Doctor picked this spot?” Ryan asked, his arms crossed tightly around his body. “Is she worried about being noticed?” His breath made plumes of vapor, difficult to discern from the drizzly fog.  
  
“I picked it,” Graham said, his voice also muffled as he spoke through a thick scarf. He caught the expressions on Yaz and Ryan’s face. “It’s a nice park! Grace and I used to come here sometimes, feed the ducks.”  
  
“In the rain?” Yaz asked sourly while Ryan groaned.  
  
“Well…” Graham hedged, before observing the effect this had on Ryan and Yaz’s expressions. “Alright! I wasn’t having the Doc parking in my front room again, or any of the others. I can’t keep replacing chairs. Outdoors, away from furniture and walls, that’s what she needs. Plenty of space, like. And it’s not my fault she’s late.” Yaz wished very much to argue with the logic of this but after reflection decided that she could not, and settled instead for tucking her face deeper in her collar. She stood like that while Ryan and Graham bickered; Ryan was of the firm opinion that the loss of one chair was not worth this rainy morning vigil, and Graham maintained that Ryan was welcome to risk any furniture he happened to own in the future, but didn’t get to dictate how Graham gambled his.  
  
It was an absurd and lively conversation, the sort that Yaz had noticed seemed to result from time spent in the Doctor’s company. Yaz was cold, wet and exasperated, but even so she smiled behind her jacket as she listened to the men bicker. The wind had picked up, finding all the gaps in her clothes and whipping droplets of rain against her face. The wind hissed through the branches of the trees, which swayed and groaned under the onslaught. It was odd, Yaz, thought, how wind could make such a variety of sounds. Howling, hissing, wheezing, groaning - Yaz’s eyes widened, and she stood up straight.

“Quiet,” she ordered, spinning on her heel, eyes flashing across the park. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what - “ Ryan began, but broke off with a whoop as he turned and caught sight of a brilliant blue box, bleeding into existence with that familiar, wonderful sound. The three of them shared a grin, then hurried forward together as the box gave a final shuddering wheeze and materialized in full. Yaz reached it first, and laid a soft hand on the blue doors, her fingers curling slightly on the already-dampening wood. Looking at Ryan and then Graham, she grinned and raised a fist, rapping her knuckles against the frame. The door gave a soft click as it sprang open, and the three of them stepped inside the TARDIS.  
  
“Well that was fast - no wasting time for you lot!” The Doctor appeared around the edge of the console, the soft ambient light highlighting the gold in her hair. She was half in shadow, and for a moment Yaz found it difficult to read her face. She was smiling, but the blue shadows painted deep hollows on that normally lively face, and in that moment they lent the Doctor an almost strained sort of look. Strained, and remote, and unfamiliar to Yaz. Then she was leaping lightly down the shallow steps, and looking much herself again in the brighter, golden light. Yaz watched as the Doctor’s gaze found hers (and as her smile widened) before moving to Graham, and then Ryan, each pause a slight but deliberate one.  
  
Counting, Yaz realized. She was counting them. Even as she thought this, the Doctor leaned back and beamed at them.

“If you hadn’t noticed, it’s miserable out there,” Graham was saying as he shook out his coat. “ _And_ you were late, Doc.” Some tension seemed to have eased from the Doctor’s bearing as she confirmed everyone’s presence, but at Graham’s words she drew herself up to her full and less-than-considerable height.  
  
“This is _my_ timeship, Graham O’Brien. And in matters of my timeship, I can never be late.” 

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t standing out in the rain for well on forty minutes,” Graham retorted, hanging up his coat on a hook. The Doctor’s nose wrinkled, and she opened her mouth to reply.  
  
“So where are we headed this time?” Yaz asked quickly, and was rewarded with another of the Doctor’s signature bright smiles, her argument with Graham successfully diverted. The Doctor whirled around, bounding back up to the console.  
  
“I’ve got a real treat in mind for you lot,” she called, her hands already busy at the controls. “No stakes, no battle, all party!” The TARDIS shuddered and groaned as the crystal began to move. Yaz steadied herself, watching the Doctor as she continued to dart this way and that in a blur of enthusiastic activity. Her energy was high, almost with an edge to it. Yaz caught Ryan’s eye, and saw some of her own surprise reflected there.  
  
“What sort of party?” Yaz asked as the Doctor reappeared.  
  
“More of a celebration,” the Doctor said, pushing hair out of her eyes and leaning a hip against the console. “Plain clothes is fine,” she added as Yaz cast a look down at her outfit.  
  
"Won’t be raining, will it?” Graham asked, and the Doctor shot him a look, the one she reserved especially for his complaints.  
  
“No,” she said, then hesitated. “I don’t think. Hopefully not. It rains diamonds there - really not as pleasant as it sounds.”  
  
“But on the plus side, we wouldn’t be wet,” Ryan said. The Doctor beamed at him.  
  
“Gold star for Ryan! That’s the right attitude, you lot take note.” Graham looked as if he’d very much like to say something in reply, but at that moment the TARDIS gave a lurch, then began to shudder, an odd whining sound emanating from the depths of the machine. The Doctor frowned, pulling herself to the controls. “What’s this then?” she muttered, jabbing at some buttons. She glanced up at the crystal, then jabbed a few more buttons for good measure. The TARDIS shuddered again, then smoothed out. “Just a hiccup!” The Doctor announced lightly, though Yaz noticed that she continued to scrutinize the output display very closely for several moments. Straightening up, the Doctor whirled around. “So! Where were we?”  
  
“The celebration,” Yaz prompted, circumventing the ‘raining diamonds’ discussion.  
  
“Right! The Felcretion New Year’s Festival. Years on Felcretion are quite long compared to Earth, almost three of your years for one of theirs. So it’s quite the party when it rolls around. Music, games, dancing, contests, food - everyone who’s anyone shows up.” The TARDIS shuddered once more, then fell still with a slight thump. “Including us! Come on then!” And in a whirl grey fabric and bright eyes, the Doctor had leapt down the stairs and reached the door. “Keep up,” she called over her shoulder, already opening the door.  
  
The trio shared a look of mingled excitement and trepidation, and then followed the Doctor into the unknown.

“I love this bit,” Yaz whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well this is proper nice, not bad at all. Well done, Doc.”

The Doctor beamed at Graham, hands on her hips as she surveyed the bustling, alien crowd.

“He’s just saying that because there’s food,” Ryan said, shaking his head. Sure enough, the unmistakable scent of greasy fair food permeated the air. Graham’s stomach rumbled its appreciation.

“Well that’s part of it sure, always a good touch. I do my best work on a full stomach don’t I? But I mean it Doc, this looks right cheery.” He had a point; lights were strung in the air above them, spanning the gap between stone buildings. They could see more lights, and hear laughter, snatches of song and revelry. It definitely sounded like a celebration.

“Thank you Graham, I try my best,” the Doctor said graciously, shutting the TARDIS door. She gestured into the crowd. “Shall we then?” And leaving the TARDIS at the mouth of the narrow alley where they had landed, the group stepped into the festival proper. 

It was a riot of clashing sensations. They were swept almost immediately into a throng of excited, chattering locals (who to all outward appearances looked human enough, though perhaps a touch taller, leaner) and propelled down what seemed to be a street. Vendors lined each side, almost stacked on top of each other and calling out their wares. There was no shortage of food (some of it even appearing edible to the discerning Sheffield palate) and rising over the tents and stalls were the unmistakable forms of carnival-style rides.

“Is that safe?” Yaz asked apprehensively, watching as one such ride catapulted several shrieking people into the air, encased in a fragile-seeming dome. “There aren’t any ropes!”

“Wicked,” Ryan said, eyes following the bouncing dome with what Yaz felt to be far too much interest.

The Doctor pushed hair out of her eyes and shaded them with a hand, watching as the dome gradually bounced to a standstill, the occupants inside still screaming in delight. She grinned.

“Magnetic fields,” she said. “See the nodes all around the base? Brilliant. And safer than ropes or cords. I love magnets.” 

“No thank you,” Graham said firmly, looking slightly ill as he watched the dome be slowly lowered to the ground. Yaz nodded in fervent agreement. “The TARDIS is bad enough, I’m not trusting an alien catapult held together by magnets.”

“No one’s asking you to,” Ryan said. “I’ll do it by myself.” The light of adventure was kindling in his eyes, Yaz noted. Graham clearly did too.

“Oh no, you won’t,” Graham started, but the burgeoning argument was interrupted by Yaz as she watched several Felcretions dart past, laughing and chattering. Their hair seemed to glitter in the evening light.

“Why’s everyone got these jewels, in their hair?” 

“Oh, the lunar gems!” The Doctor clapped her hands together. “We’ve got to have some of those, good thinking Yaz.” 

“But I didn’t -” Yaz started, before breaking off as the Doctor darted past her. “Doctor, wait!” She groaned as Ryan and Graham laughed, and the three of them hastened to follow the Doctor. It was, after all, what they did. 

The Doctor hadn’t gotten far, and they caught up with her as she enthusiastically accepted several strands of the supposed lunar gems from a shop keeper. 

“Right, here you go,” she said, handing them out. 

“They look expensive,” Yaz said, watching as the Doctor settled the surprisingly light stones onto her own head and posed for them. The Doctor shook her head.

“Genuine Felcretion lunar stones. From their third moon, Eo. And free to all festival-goers.”

“They’ve got three moons?” Graham asked, looking up as he set the stones on his head.

“Seven, actually,” the Doctor said, adjusting her strand so that it sat at a rather rakish angle indeed. “Now we’re proper revelers. Fit right in.” She thanked the shop keeper again, and they set off through the crowd once more.

“So is that what this festival is celebrating then?” Ryan asked. “The moons?”

“No, I told you, this is their New Year Festival,” the Doctor said. “The years are quite a bit longer here than you’re used to, so it makes for a much bigger party.” She paused, allowing a chattering crowd of kids to move around her. They seemed to be arguing about something. “The lunar stones are just a traditional, ah,” she waved her hands expansively, searching for the word. “Affect. Like the specs you lot wear, with the year in place of the lenses.”

“Bit random then, isn’t it?” Graham said. “Bits of moon rock?”

“The rocks come from Eo because it’s the outermost moon right now, and thus part of what signifies a full rotation,” the Doctor said. “And it makes quite a bit more sense than wearing the year on your face as if you all might forget.”

“Fair enough,” Yaz said, grinning. The Doctor grinned back at her over a shoulder. Yaz watched her as she turned back, continuing her narration of the festival. She was alive with enthusiasm and energy, clearly enjoying her role as tour-guide. She seemed to have shaken off the edge that Yaz had noticed earlier, when they’d first reunited. Or maybe Yaz had imagined it; the TARDIS lighting was moody and apt to play tricks on the eye. ‘Mood lighting’, Ryan had called it once. Which had caused Graham to choke on his coffee and the Doctor to scold all of them. Yaz smiled, remembering.

“Ouch - oh, sorry!” Lost in her reminiscing, Yaz failed to see the huddled group of people again, and collided with a taller woman. She looked down at Yaz, and something in her face made Yaz pause, pushing her senses to alert. It was fear, she realized. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t find him,” she said, and Yaz blinked, nonplussed.

“What? Did you lose someone?”

“We got separated, we were supposed to meet back at the exit, but when I came out he wasn’t there. I waited…”

“Where?” Yaz asked, but someone lost in the crowd called out, and the woman looked up sharply. Before Yaz could stop her, she had slipped away. Yaz frowned after her for a long moment, finally deciding against following. Perhaps she had found her missing person. Still frowning, Yaz hurried to catch the others up. Perhaps it was just her nerves, but as she threaded through the crowd, she thought she saw more faces like that woman’s, people looking over their shoulders more frequently. Parents clutching their children’s hands more tightly. More than before? More than normal? She didn’t even know what normal was, for this planet, or these people. She only knew what her gut felt. 

“Meet someone?” Ryan asked, as she rejoined the others. They had stopped at an intersection of paths, waiting for Yaz and debating where to go next.

“Sort of,” Yaz said. “Doctor, have you noticed anything… odd?”

“Other than Graham wearing moon rocks on his head,” Ryan said, grinning. But the Doctor’s gaze was sharp as she looked at Yaz.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, instead of answering. Yaz was used to that. 

“Not sure. Nothing, maybe.” She looked over her shoulder, back into the crowd. “Just feels like the mood is shifting, maybe. People seem worried.” The Doctor swept her own gaze over the crowd. She didn’t always answer her friends, but she did always take them seriously. 

“Hm,” she said. A group of people moved between her and Yaz, temporarily blocking the Doctor from her view. They were talking and laughing, definitely not worried. ‘Snuck off after the mirrors,’ one of them said, smirking. ‘Must’ve found someone to  _ celebrate  _ with -‘ When the group had passed by, Yaz looked again at the Doctor, and saw her watching the group. 

“They seemed fine,” Graham offered.

“Hm,” the Doctor repeated. Her face was still, but Yaz could almost feel the gears turning in her head, could almost see the thoughts that churned beneath the surface. Sometimes the Doctor was an open-book with her thoughts, her words and hands flying through the air too fast to follow, all enthusiasm and spectacle. Other times she was like this, still. Hidden. It was those times that worried Yaz more. 

“Oh, look at those!” The Doctor said suddenly, and she was already moving towards another booth, Graham and Ryan hot on her heels. Yaz followed more slowly. She knew the Doctor wasn’t brushing her off to be rude, but simply because she was still in the middle of deciding something. Yaz just wished she knew what. She used to always assume that the Doctor would tell them, when she was ready. She wasn’t so sure anymore. But she’d never let them down, and that was more than could be said for so many people in Yaz’s life. Yaz shrugged. She trusted the Doctor, and she supposed it was as simple as that.

They continued to wander the seemingly endless maze of booths and vendors, exhibits and games. At one point they passed by an attraction that looked suspiciously like apple-bobbing; the Doctor certainly made every appearance of wishing to enquire further. Only the adamant protestations of the humans kept her from doing so, but it was a close thing. She wasn’t above sulking about it for a few steps, either, but her attention was quickly diverted, as always. She continued her role as benevolent tour-guide, chattering and gesticulating and moving, always moving. But Yaz thought that the Doctor’s attention now lingered on the crowd more frequently, confirming the growing conviction that Yaz felt. Too many people looking around, as if for something -or someone- lost. Too many people arguing. Not the drunken or otherwise ostentatious arguing so common to festivals, but the private, hard arguing, the sort with an edge of desperation to it. But when they passed one such couple, voices low and permeated with worry, and the Doctor caught Yaz’s eye, she merely smiled, before answering a question from Ryan.

But the inevitable could only be delayed for so long. Alien festivals, moon necklaces, possible conspiracies; these were as nothing in the face of Graham O’Brien and an overdue meal. It was a common pastime for Ryan and Yaz to take bets on how deep into an adventure they would get before Graham would put (or attempt to put) his foot down regarding the next meal. Yaz had to admit that she was surprised Graham had made it this long; she supposed the pleasant surprise of an accurate and peaceful landing had distracted him. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

“So Doc,” he said, rubbing his hand together and looking around as Ryan and the Doctor examined what appeared to be wood carvings, “the local cuisine, is it safe? For humans, I mean?”

“Always with your stomach,” Ryan said, shaking his head tragically. The Doctor glanced at both of them, but her attention was quickly drawn into the crowd.

“See, now that right there, that’s what I’m talking about,” Graham said, and everyone looked at him. “I can tell something’s bothering you, and you too Yaz. But as far as I can tell it’s nothing deadly yet, and that means we’ve got time to eat first.” 

“What’s up?” Ryan asked, frowning. “Yaz? Something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Yaz slowly. She hadn’t realized Graham had noticed her worry, nor the Doctor’s. She was impressed, and reminded herself again not to underestimate him. Your average bus drivers were better than most at reading a room, and Graham was far from average. 

“Maybe,” the Doctor answered Ryan, her voice noncommittal. 

“With you that means definitely,” Ryan said. Resigned.

“No, no hang on, I won’t be having this!” Graham said, not liking the direction that the conversation was headed. “Not this time, you promised not this time!”

“I did no such thing,” the Doctor replied absently, her hands on her hips as she observed the crowd. She seemed to be looking for something specific. She crouched suddenly, her coat pooling around her. Yaz was afraid she might be about to partake of some soil, but she simply ran her sonic over the ground before eying it speculatively. “Odd,” she murmured to herself. 

“No, no, I won’t be having it with this,” Graham was still saying stubbornly. “I was promised food prior to any adventures, planned or otherwise.”

“That was before we found out about a possible situation, this might be important.” The Doctor stood back up and dusted off her hands, her coat falling back into place.

“Or it might be nothin’,” Ryan offered, hands in his pockets.

“This is us we’re talking about,” Yaz said wearily, though though with a pointed look at the Doctor. “When is it ever nothing?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Graham exclaimed. “And I’m up for it, but I’m not doing another one of these on an empty stomach Doc, I’m not. As the only responsible adult here, I’m drawing the line. We’ll be eating first, and then we’ll do your investigating.”

“Right you are,” the Doctor said, surprising everyone. 

“Hey?” Graham said, suspicious.

“You lot find something to eat; Felcretions are known for their fruits. Well, I say fruits, but they’re more like berries. Well, I say berries but they’re more like -” Yaz knew a tangent when she saw one, and swiftly intervened. She didn’t think Graham had the bandwidth left for a Doctor tangent.

“And then we’ll investigate?”

“And then I’ll catch you up,” the Doctor corrected. “I’ll have a poke around while you eat, make sure nothing’s off, chat up some locals.”

“On your own?” Ryan asked. Yaz watched the Doctor’s face. She looked serene, unconcerned as she waved a hand. But that crease had appeared in her brow, the one just next to her eye. The one that meant she was serious about something, no matter how much she smiled or waved her hands.

“Go on then, I’ll be fine,” the Doctor said, smiling at them. And all the while, that crease. “I’ll be back before you even miss me. Save me a Felcretion berry tart! I’ve heard they’re a delicacy.” And before Yaz could protest, she had turned and slipped away, her from vanishing amongst the taller locals.

Ryan, Graham and Yaz stood for a moment, watching where she’d vanished. Then they set out in search of food, as they’d been told. 

\----------------------------------

The Doctor had noticed it almost immediately, of course. Long before Yaz, though the PC had picked it up quick enough. Never slow on the uptake, was her Yaz. But the Doctor was faster. She’d barely set foot on the planet before she heard the whispers, filtering through the crowd like smoke.

_ ‘We lost him somewhere back there -’ They were with me when we went in, they must have taken a wrong turn, they’ll turn up -’ ‘Was the mirror halls here last year? I don’t remember -’ ‘You don’t think she seems quieter now? Wouldn’t shut up before and now she’s like a ghost -’ ‘You’re always overreacting -‘ ‘Near the hall of mirrors -’ _

The whispers varied, often impossible to pin to a specific speaker and quickly lost in the swirling crowd before they even finished speaking. But the message was clear, to those who were in possession of a good set of ears, sharp eyes, and devastating intellect, something the Doctor had in spades if she did say so herself. People were going missing… and if they were found, they were… wrong. Different.

And it all centered around this so-called hall of mirrors.

Intriguing, and of far more interest to the Doctor than the New Year Festival. Festivals were boring. She didn’t mind taking her friends to them, but it was for them, and no mistake. Sort of like attending a child’s birthday party. Necessary for the child, but boring for the adult.

People vanishing, though? A possible conspiracy regarding mirrors? Not boring. The Doctor smiled to herself as she moved through the crowd, and if any of her friends had been able to see her, they might have noticed the increase spring in her step. 

It didn’t take her very long to find the attraction; she simply had to follow the whispers, follow the thread of unease the twisted through the crowd. The Doctor stopped very suddenly, and looked up. She faced a disappointingly nondescript building, clearly used for various functions throughout the year. It currently had a sign labeling it the “Hall of Mirrors”, and could have fit in any carnival. Another sign was nailed over the entrance, freshly made, and the Doctor shaded her eyes as she read it.

_ What you see is not just you _

_ Step within, reveal your truth.  _

  
“Brilliant,” the Doctor breathed. She knew a challenge when she saw one. Not boring at  _ all _ . Shaking her sonic into her palm, the Doctor squared her shoulders and slipped inside, the shadows swallowing her form.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the crowds, it didn’t take long to procure food. Ryan even found a suitable bench to claim while they ate, and rested… and waited for the Doctor. Yaz had accepted her food from Graham with some trepidation, but she found that the fried, dough-like tart wasn’t bad. Odd, but not unpleasant. It certainly had the right feel for fair food. Ryan and Graham seemed to like theirs well enough as well, and for a while they tree of them simply sat and ate. And waited. 

With the resulting quiet, though, the mood of the crowd swirling around them was thrown into sharp relief. Any lingering doubts Yaz had held as to her gut feelings were gone; more and more people in the crowd were clearly, undeniably upset. That quiet, private sort of upset that spoke to something serious, something deeply primal. The kind of worry you might be afraid to voice too loud, lest you brought it upon yourself. Made it real.

“Lot of missing people with missing mates,” Ryan said after a while. Yaz thought that he was making an effort to sound casual. 

“And people arguing with them, too,” Yaz replied quietly. She clenched her fists on her lap, fingers twisting. “Something’s not right.” 

“It never is with the Doc, is it?” Graham observed. He didn’t sound angry, or even that worried. Just resigned. For all of his complaining and colourful commentary, he really had the steadiest temperament out of all of them. Yaz supposed it came with experience… or perhaps it was just him, just Graham O’Brien. 

“She should be back by now, don’t you reckon?” Ryan said after another protracted pause. Yaz was glad he was the one who said it, and not her. She didn’t need a reputation for becoming a worrywart, or for jumping at shadows. “How long do we give it before we go looking for her?” 

“I will say, it’s nice to sit a spell,” Graham said. Ryan and Yaz’s expressions as they looked at him did little to disturb his complacency. Yes, he possessed an even, steady temperament so long as he was well fed. “She can take care of herself, no need to rush off. Not when she told us she’d catch us up.”

“Fifteen more minutes,” Yaz said. She heard the tension in her voice and disliked it, but Ryan was nodding. 

“Fifteen minutes,” he agreed.

Twenty-five minutes later, the unease in the crowd had become more pronounced, and Yaz was on her feet, hands still twisting. She couldn’t wait any longer. The Doctor was capable, mad and utterly brilliant, but that didn’t grant her immunity to dangers. If anything, it often landed her right in the middle of them. 

“Right,” she started, but was interrupted.

“Ready to go?”

The familiar voice sliced through Yaz like the sun parting the clouds. She spun and watched the Doctor appear through the crowd, hands in her pockets and looking quite unconcerned.

Yaz exhaled. Ryan’s shoulders relaxed. And Graham offered the Doctor some food he’d reserved for her. For her part, the Doctor merely smiled at each of them. Counting again, perhaps. But Yaz noted that the remnants of her earlier, almost frantic energy from the TARDIS were gone. 

Even when they (well, when Graham) had finished with their meal and resumed their tour of the celebration, the Doctor’s energy remained muted and steady. She wasn’t sad, or worried, or at least not so far as Yaz could tell. She had simply gone serene. As if without any care in the world. When they asked her about her investigation, she had continued to smile. ‘Oh, just had a look ‘round,” she had said vaguely before walking ahead. “Come on, keep up.”

A serene Doctor was a relatively new experience upon reflection, but not alarming. And so Yaz was slower to recognize it than she should have been. The group had resumed wandering the festival for quite some time before Yaz realized something: for all her serenity, that crease by the Doctor’s brow had not disappeared.

And Yaz didn’t think that it should have, because it seemed that every other person they passed now was talking about strange events. Missing friends, changed friends, and fluctuations with the magnetic fields. Wait, what?

“Doctor,” Yaz said. “Did you find anything strange, with the magnetics?” The Doctor didn’t turn around immediately, but continued to watch Graham and Ryan as they tried on, of all things, hats.

“What magnetics?” The Doctor asked finally, though she still didn’t look at Yaz. She was standing quite still. Listening, perhaps?

“I don’t know,” Yaz said, frowning. “Didn’t you say some of the rides and things are powered by them?” The Doctor finally turned to look at her then. Her face was as still as her posture had been, but as they looked at each other the Doctor smiled, a slight quirk of the lips. And when she spoke, she had already turned away.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “This planet uses magnetic fields for many tasks.”

“Including those awesome rides,” Ryan said, joining them with a truly terrible hat covering his head. “What d’you think? Graham picked it out.” It was orange and fuzzy, with what looked like bits of pompoms plastered all over it.

“Did you put it over the moon stones?” Yaz asked, smiling despite herself. The Ryan she had started these travels with would not have been caught dead in such a getup. Traveling with the Doctor had changed him. All of them, really. Yaz laughed as Ryan whipped off his hat to reveal the stones, striking a pose. She tried to catch the Doctor’s eye, but found herself still looking at her back, turned away from them. Yaz’s smile faded, and Ryan followed her gaze.

“She okay?” he asked, as if she would know.

“I don’t know,” Yaz said. She was getting tired of saying that. Of _feeling_ it.

“She looks relaxed enough,” Ryan said tentatively. And he was right, she did. Except for that crease by her brow. Except for the way she held herself so still, when nobody actively engaged with her. “Just quieter, maybe.” But despite his words, as they continued on Yaz noted that Ryan too began to cast a more discerning eye over the Doctor, his gaze lingering on her thoughtfully. Uneasily.

It took Graham to bring things to a head, though. Which Yaz supposed made sense. For the steadiest member of their group to become agitated meant something was well and truly askew. And of course, when the three of them were united in something… well, they could do almost anything. The Doctor had told them as much several times, usually with a proud smile and a twirl of her coat.

They had been walking in a larger circuit around the fair, and had ended up close to what was apparently one of the exits. The Doctor was leading them, except Yaz thought that leading wasn’t really the right word for it at all. She was _drifting_ , and just happened to be drifting ahead of them. The appearance of leading, without the substance. Not like her at all, but she was an enigma at the best of times, and there were so many things to distract their attention from a quieter than normal Doctor.But when the Doctor slid past a lone child, when she didn’t so much as turn her head even as the child looked up at her, it was Graham who shifted the equilibrium.

“Doc, hold on,” he called sharply, kneeling before the child. A young boy, though his age was difficult for Yaz to discern beyond that. Everyone was so tall here. “Everything alright son?” Graham asked kindly. The child blinked at him, then at Yaz and Ryan. He shook his head slowly.

“Where’s your mum and dad?” Ryan asked. The boy blinked again.

“Not right,” he whispered. Which didn’t seem to be an answer to the question.

“Doc,” Graham called again, over his shoulder. To the boy he offered a kind smile. “Have you lost them? We’ll help you find them, we’re good at that.” But the boy shook his head slowly again.

“Not lost. Hiding. Not right.”

“Hiding won’t protect you.” Everyone jumped, though the words had been spoken quietly. The Doctor had drifted back to them unnoticed. She looked down at the boy, and as they locked gazes the boy paled.

“Hey, it’s alright - wait!” Yaz made a grab for thechild, but he slipped away, vanishing in the milling crowd.

“What the hell was that?” Graham asked, rare anger in his voice. Anger Yaz agreed with. “You about scared him out of his mind, Doc. He looked like he needed our help.” But the Doctor was already turning away.

“Come on fam,” she said. Familiar words. Yet Yaz felt the hairs on her arms prickle. “It’s time we got going.” Yaz stared after her. Again, though, it was Graham who broke. The Doctor stepped away, but Graham could move surprisingly quickly when he wanted to. In a quick motion, he stood and touched the Doctor’s arm. Grabbed her, truly, something none of them did. Even when she stumbled, or struggled with balance, or was otherwise compromised, she was quick to shake off helping hands. They respected it, even if they didn’t understand it.

Yet Graham’s hand closed around the Doctor’s elbow, and stranger still, the Doctor merely looked down at it.

“We should go. You cannot help him,” she said, still looking at the hand.

“Says who?” Ryan asked. “Isn’t that what we do? Help people? Fix things?” The Doctor was silent in reply.

“Doctor,” Yaz said. Her voice shook audibly, and she swallowed. This was wrong, this was all so wrong. “What are you talking about?”

“And why won’t you even _look_ at us?” Ryan added, and indeed the Doctor had stood still as a statue throughout the confrontation, her gaze resting on the spot where Graham’s hand had been. Had been, because at some point he had dropped it and stepped back, his anger seeping away. Replaced with unease.

“What happened, when you left?” Yaz asked, softly.

For several heartbeats, the crowd flowed around them, a river of voices and movement, and the four of them unmoving, stones in the water. And then the Doctor lifted her head, and she looked at them.

“Nothing,” she said calmly, but Yaz physically recoiled, feeling the blood drain from her face and hearing Ryan suck in a startled breath. The Doctor was looking at them, but Yaz did not recognize her. Did not recognize those dark, dispassionate eyes that watched her so calmly. They were shark’s eyes, flat and without malice… nor pity. “

Shall we continue?” The Doctor’s mouth said, while a stranger looked out of her eyes. When she turned and drifted forwards once more, Yaz gasped out a shuddering breath she had been holding. Her face felt cold. Graham let out a low whistle.

“What was that you said Yaz, about people arguing? Acting different?” Three pairs of eyes watched the Doctor’s retreating back. Silence stretched, thin and brittle.

“We have to help her,” Yaz said.

“What about us?” Ryan asked, sounding almost as shaken as Yaz felt.

“Something happened to her, Ryan! When she went off on her own. I knew we should have gone with her -” Yaz broke off, choking on the words. She was angry with herself, which was good. Anger was more useful than fear. Anger meant she could fight something.

“Yaz is right,” Graham said. “Whatever happened to the Doc, we gotta find out, and we gotta fix it. We can start with retracing her steps. Come on, let’s ask her.”

But the Doctor would not tell them where she had gone. “Just around,” she’d answer vaguely, all the while watching them with those calm, cold eyes. Yaz found that she couldn’t bear to look at them for very long; it twisted something sharp inside her.

Again it was Graham who took charge and who was the catalyst. The steady, observant bus driver, unafraid of meeting the stranger’s gaze looking from the Doctor’s face. He was, Yaz thought, perhaps the bravest of them all. Certainly she would not have dared to touch the Doctor’s arm for a second time, forced her to look them in the face. Nor did she think she would have been able to demand answers, oh no. That was not _done_ , that was not the balance they had struck in their travels.

But the scales had tipped, were tipping still, sliding towards something unseen but felt, oh yes, felt, and it was Graham who fought to right them, and who succeeded.

“The center of it all,” the Doctor said finally. “Can’t you feel it? Pulling at you?” She looked at their blank, pale faces. “The Mirrors,” she said. As if that explained it. But…

“There’s a hall of mirrors, like a funhouse, I heard people talking about it,” Ryan said suddenly.

“Actually, I did too,” Yaz added, frowning.

“That makes three, Graham said grimly, and the Doctor tipped her head in acknowledgment.

Another of those brief silences. And then they set off, the Doctor drifting behind them now, reluctant, Yaz thought. But following. This did nothing to reassure her.

In short order, the three of them (four, truly, but it felt like three, three and a stranger) stood outside of the same threshold that the Doctor had earlier. Looked up at the same sign.

“Well, that’s not ominous at all, is it?” Graham said. But he was the first to step inside. When the shadows swallowed him (and quickly, far too quickly) Yaz felt that twisting sharpness in her again, and hastened to follow, with Ryan at her heels and the Doctor trailing silently in their wake. The shadows took them.

“Oh, no. I’ve had nightmares like this,” Ryan muttered a few moments later. He was standing next to Yaz, but she felt disoriented; dozens of him stretched in all directions, in every shape and size. It was difficult to look at them for too long, twisting and tricking the eye and seeming to move on their own.

“Not another solitract, is it?” Graham asked apprehensively, reaching out a tentative finger and brushing a mirror. It remained solid.

“No,” the Doctor said. She was behind them still, but in the reflections she seemed to speak from Yaz’s side. “But good thinking! Ten points to Graham. Took you long enough to get here, I must say.” Yaz jerked around at that, startled, looking from the reflection to the Doctor herself. She sounded - _normal_ again. Yet despite this, as the Doctor continued to talk, Yaz felt her face run cold again. Because the Doctor was talking - _but her mouth wasn’t moving._ And with a sick swoop of horror, Yaz realized that it was the reflection who was speaking, her hand pressed up against the glass. She smiled brightly as Yaz looked at her.

“Hiya, fam! Ah, so this is where it gets a bit tricky.”


	4. Chapter 4

There was a moment of perfect, crystalline silence, augmented somehow by the glittering multitudes of mirrors, as if they reflected sound as well as light, fracturing the silence into thousands of copies and filling the dim room until the silence was deafening.

And then the silence shattered as, in perfect unison and total uproar, everyone began speaking at once.

“Doctor! What -”

“Oh no, oh no no no -”

“What the bloody hell is going on in here -”

“If you’d all just calm down a mo’-”

“Oh no no _no_ -”

“Are you okay? Doctor -”

“How can you be out here and also -”

" - _no no no_ -"

Ryan and Graham had actually ended up back-to-back without Yaz seeing them move, but then again, her eyes were only for the Doctors. Both of them; the physical one (Yaz couldn’t think of her as real, not even in her own head) had moved closer to the mirror, while the reflection said something too low for Yaz to catch.

The two Doctors looked at each other, and both lifted a hand. A hand clutching a sonic. It was as synchronous a movement as Yaz had yet seen from the two of them, and she felt a thrill of foreboding as the sonics lit up, the crystals turning. Then Yaz had doubled over, her hands clasped futilely over her ears and teeth gritted as a horrible, dissonant buzzing blasted through the room. It rattled her skull, pressed against her shoulders, fizzed in her very bones. She felt as if she was being shaken down, shaken apart. It lasted for perhaps only a few heartbeats, but they spanned an eternity.

Even when the resonance faded, Yaz could still feel the buzzing on her skin, coursing through her blood. Slowly,she opened her eyes into the uneasy silence. Graham and Ryan had staggered apart, and were lowering their own protective hands. Only the two Doctors seemed unaffected.

“Sorry about that,” the mirror Doctor said, pocketing her sonic. “But I needed to get your attention, we don’t have a lot of time and we need your help.” Yaz blinked; the second ‘we’ had not seemed to include her, Ryan or Graham.

“Who needs our help?” She asked, her eyes darting to the physical Doctor, who had remained unnervingly silent throughout the entire debacle thus far.

“And how are you in there,” Graham pointed an almost accusatory finger at the mirror, “and out here too, Doc?”

“I’m not,” the reflection Doctor said. She nodded her head at her silent counterpart. “That’s not me. Fam, I’d like to introduce you to Kerrah. Kerrah, this is Ryan, Graham and Yaz, my best mates.” She beamed as she said it, while the other her - Kerrah - merely inclined her - its? - head.

Side by side, the difference between them was pronounced, for all that they were identical. The mirror Doctor was always moving, shifting her weight, brushing her hair back from her face, looking from one of her friends to another. Smiling. And the other, Kerrah, simply stood as if hewn from stone. Looked out at them with those flat, dispassionate eyes. Not cruel, not angry. Simply above them. Yaz looked back at the reflection, and then found herself standing in front of the mirror without the memory of having moved; one minute she had been across the room, and the next she was there, looking at the Doctor. Her hand lifted, pressed against the glass. That hadn’t been a choice either.

“Ah, careful Yaz,” the reflection said. “The Irin won’t pull you in on purpose, but the fields are unstable. Best move back a touch.” But her hand had lifted too, a palm pressed against her side of the barrier with fingers slightly curled.

“The Irin?” Ryan asked. “Who - _what_ -”

“Doc! There’s - there’s people already in the mirrors!” Graham’s startled shout interrupted Ryan, and everyone except the Doctors spun to look at him. He was right, Yaz realized with horror. Some of the mirrors were empty, ready to provide a reflection to any who stepped in front of them. But others… others were already full. Reflecting people who weren’t there. Yaz put her hand over her mouth. She recognized them, not as individuals but as a species. They were all of them Felcetions, many sporting the decorative lunar stones in their hair.

“As I was saying,” the Doctor called peevishly from her mirror, clearly annoyed with the interruption.Which was quite characteristic of her, and did as much to convince Yaz of her authenticity as anything else, because the Doctor she knew did _so_ love an audience. “Honestly, you lot! All these questions, and not waiting for any answers!” Yaz and the others shared a glance equal parts guilty and exasperated, and moved back to the Doctor’s mirror.

And finally with her friends duly chastened and listening, the Doctor began her story.

Kerrah, it transpired, was a member of a race of beings called the Irinazy, or Irin for short.

“Nomads, almost extinct,” the Doctor said. “Traveling, kind of like us.“

“Except for the fact that they’re trapping people in mirrors,” Graham said tartly.

“And copying them,” Ryan added. “That’s messed up.”

The Doctor waved a hand. “They’re trying to help,” the she chided. “So long as people are in these pocket universes, they’re safe. Well, safer. Pocket universes are tricky but the Irin are _really_ good with them. They can stabilize them,so long as they take care to limit the size. And the copies…” she scrunched her nose. “They’re a sort of decoy. Clever. Brutal, but clever.” She was pacing as she spoke, her hands doing as much talking as her mouth. 

“Safer from what?” Yaz asked. She shook her head, confused and frustrated. “Why do they need decoys? And why are they almost extinct?”

“The Weavers,” said Kerrah, speaking for the first time in several minutes. Their voice was the Doctor’s voice, but it was not the same. Yaz heard something almost ugly in it, a tone she had not heard from the Doctor herself. Hatred, latent violence… all layered over a bone-deep fear. It was the most emotion Yaz had heard from the copy yet, and she swallowed, uneasy.

“The Weavers and the Irin used to be one,” the Doctor said. “But there was a schism. A split in ideology. And there was a war.” Her voice quieted, gaze turning inward. “There’s always a war.” She fell silent, and a shadow passed over her face, some emotion moving beneath her skin that was difficult for Yaz to read. She was sad, but that was a veneer just like Kerrah’s. Yaz wasn’t sure what it covered. Anger, maybe. Or guilt? She watched the Doctor, but if the others noticed this moment of introspection, they didn’t remark on it. Ryan was frowning at Kerrah.

“So they fought, and -”

“We were destroyed,” Kerrah said. “Hunted. Forced to convert, if caught. Killed, if lucky.”

“Convert?” Yaz repeated sharply, looking away from the Doctor.

“The Weavers are a sort of hive-mind, now,” the Doctor said, distaste colouring her words. “Partially the cause for the split in the first place, though it’s more complicated than that. But they’re your typical run-of-the-mill hive-mind species, in most respects. They see beauty in order. Or not beauty, but peace. Calm. Lack of strife.”

“Have you encountered them before?” Ryan asked. The Doctor’s face scrunched up in that way that she had, the way that meant the universe wasn’t behaving as it should.

“No, I haven’t. Them _or_ the Irinazy. It’s all very exciting. Also annoying. Treating it as a chance to learn something.”

“That all sounds rough, but I have to say that trapping people in mirrors, and replacing them with copies is not what I’d call friendly,” Graham said. He looked at Kerrah and gestured at the Doctor. “Go on then, let her out.” He wasn’t smiling as he said it.

“They’re trying to help, like I said,” the Doctor interjected. “People are safe-ish in here.” She waggled a hand.

“And then what, they’re just trapped in there forever?” Ryan asked, aghast.

“When it is safe they are released,” Kerrah said stiffly. They seemed to hesitate, the slightest pause. “Those that survive. Moving between the two universes is… complicated.” Instant uproar again as all three humans started talking at once.

“I know, I know! Calm down,” the Doctor said over them. “It’s not a perfect process and we’ve been having a chat about it, but their hearts are in the right place.” She cocked her head, seemingly to realize something, and turned to look at Kerrah. “Do you _have_ hearts?” The Irin blinked at her, and Graham shook his head, eyes shut as he tried to sort through the information.

“Okay but, what’s this all got to do with us? With this planet?” he asked, but Yaz thought he already suspected the answer. This wasn’t their first intergalactic rodeo, after all. Generally wherever they landed, worst case scenario was the first item on the agenda. Maybe second. Either way, situations unraveling in unexpected and dire ways had become the norm.

“The Weavers are coming,” Kerrah said, simply. Calmly. Yaz was really growing to dislike hearing the Doctor’s voice used in that way, with that inflection. _You can’t do anything_ , that tone said. _You don’t matter._

“Right,” Graham muttered, rubbing his face. “I thought you might say that.”

“So that’s what the decoys are for,” Ryan said in a low voice.

The Doctor nodded, looking suddenly serious again. “Ten points to Ryan.”

“Wait, what?” Yaz asked, feeling sick.

“If the Weavers kept coming to empty planets, they would eventually expand their search, and find the hidden pockets of Irin,” the Doctor said. “Only the existence of so many other flawed, chaotic, individual species keeps them distracted from the survivors. So this way, when the Weavers hit, they take the decoys, and think they’ve made off with a decent haul.”

“What happens to the decoys?” Yaz asked. The Doctor grimaced.

“As I said, it’s not a perfect process,” she said. “The copies, like Kerrah here, are a sort of hybrid, a collection of bits and pieces and memories, all made tangible. Like if your reflection could step out of the mirror, but take just a little bit of you with it.” Her voice hardened. “Enough to feed the hungry beast at the door, and send it on to your neighbor’s.”

“There’s part of you in that?” Yaz asked in horror, pointing at Kerrah. “Doctor -”

“Yes, and it was a tad bit rude of them, but water under the bridge, we’re past it now. Because there’s a lot to do, and luckily I -”

“- have a plan,” Yaz and Ryan chorused unison with her. She beamed at them, and a slight distortion of the mirror caused her smile to ripple. For a moment, she looked almost sinister, her expression looking less a smile, and more a threat. Yaz blinked, and the moment had passed. She opened her mouth to speak, met the Doctor’s eyes.

That was when they heard the first explosions. Felt them, truly, muted and concussive blasts of power that rocked the room. The lights flickered, causing the mirrors to flash and wink. Kerrah looked up sharply.

Then came the screaming.

“They are here,” the Irin hissed. Their eyes were still cold and flat, but now they glittered in the dim, uncertain light. Their lips had drawn back from their teeth, but Yaz wouldn’t have called the expression a smile. It was too feral. Too cruel. For some reason Yaz thought again of the Doctor, how her expression had changed when the mirror had rippled.

“Right,” the Doctor said urgently, as sounds of explosions and screams continued to grow. “This is where you come in.” She swept her gaze across them, earnest and serious. And perhaps just a touch exited. Despite everything, Yaz felt a touch of that same excitement kindle within her; the Doctor had that effect on her. On all of them. At her side, Ryan and Graham straightened their shoulders and stood ready. “Everyone still have their lunar stones? Good - oh, nice hat, Ryan! Now, here’s what I need you to do.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Yaz, Ryan, Graham and Kerrah stepped outside of the Hall of Mirrors again, it was to find a very different scene than the one they had left. The Felcretions might not understand the nuances and specifics of the threat facing them, but that there  _ was _ a threat was no doubt. The Weavers had surrounded much of the Festival, and despite their supposed desire for peace and order, they seemed quite willing to use weapons to achieve it. 

“Do you get the feeling,” Graham asked, his voice raised to carry over the sounds of panic and destruction all around them, “that the Doc gave us a rather raw deal of it?” He ducked back down behind the food cart they were using as a shelter, narrowly avoiding a ricocheting piece of debris. 

“I think it was between this or going into the mirror-pocket things,” Yaz said. Next to her, Ryan grimaced, likely remembering the last time they’d gone through a mirror. Amazing that their lives had come to this, Yaz thought. That the most interesting thing about her day might not be that she  _ could _ go through a mirror, but that she’d have a basis of comparison.

“No thanks,” Ryan said, and shuddered. Graham didn’t say anything, but his expression hardened. Out of all of them, he had been the most affected by the solitract; Yaz didn’t think she’d ever forget his face, that night on the TARDIS. After everything had gone quiet, and calm again, and the Doctor was already moving on to the next adventure.

“Come on,” Yaz said, peeking around their dubious shelter. “We don’t have much time and they’re everywhere.” It was true; no matter which direction she turned her head, she could find the forms of fleeing Felcretions… and marching Weavers.

Much like the rippling reflections back in the mirrors, the Weavers were difficult to focus on. They seemed to shiver and slide in and out of view, only their clothing… armor? remaining solid for any significant period. The Doctor hypothesized that this form shivering was vestigial, remnants of when they and the Irin were one and both could traverse pocket universes. It had the annoying effect of making it difficult to discern their numbers and positioning. But the Doctor had said that the specifics of that wouldn’t matter, so long as they had everything in place in time, and everything went according to plan. So, easy enough. Yaz suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. The Doctor’s optimism was one of the things Yaz loved about her, but it did have a tendency to shade a bit towards the unrealistic.

“We can do this,” Yaz muttered to herself, but the others stirred at her words, Graham seeming to come out of his reverie and Ryan drawing his shoulders back. Kerrah, of course, remained silent and still, though their eyes glittered as they tracked the Weavers. Such naked hatred on the Doctor’s familiar face was difficult to look at, and Yaz found her own gaze sliding away, unwilling to linger. She clenched her fist around the strand of lunar stones, cool and smooth against her skin. Taking a deep breath, Yaz peeked around their cover again. The coast was clear, but she knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Let’s go,” she said, and the four of them darted into the open, and towards their first objective: the alley where they’d left the TARDIS. 

Yaz reached it first, and tucked her strand of lunar stones between the TARDIS and the stone wall flanking it, then stood back as Kerrah knelt and pointed the sonic at the stones and activated them. Yaz couldn’t discern any visible change to the stones, but the Doctor had said it would work. The TARDIS gave a sudden and strident  _ whirr  _ as Kerrah finished, and despite the strictly-mechanical nature of the sound, it was difficult to hear it as anything other than a complaint.

“Don’t think it likes you, wearing the Doctor’s face like that,” Ryan observed. Yaz rested a palm against the TARDIS’ side in solidarity. She quite agreed. Sudden shouts echoed in the alley, and the four of them crowded into the shadows, peeking around the TARDIS as they watched Weavers move past.

“Right,” Graham said after the coast was clear again. “That’s one down, three to go, and” he glanced at his watch, “we’re still on schedule. Which is the next location?” In answer, Ryan pointed. Graham followed with his eyes, then groaned. Ryan was pointing at the carnival-style ride from earlier, a monolith rising above the festival. “I was hoping we’d skip that one.” But when they set off again, Graham led the way. His dedication to the plan was rewarded when Kerrah pointed out that they did not need to actually climb the structure, but could simply place the stones enclosed in the carriage, and send it up to wait. Ryan was extremely disappointed.

“Two left,” he said, eyeing the ride wistfully as the charged stones zoomed to the top without him. They could do this. 

\------------------------

The Doctor was enchanted, she really was. She was in a  _ stable _ pocket universe! Incredible, impossible, brilliant. She felt that she could spend days exploring and unraveling the mechanics of it. Well, maybe not days. Days could get boring, just one after another in strict, unaltered progression. But hours, definitely hours. Hours that she unfortunately did not have.

“Why is it anytime I get the chance to see something new and mysterious, there’s a catch?” she asked the pocket universe at large, disgruntled. “In this case, a rather fine deadline. Shame.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. This pocket universe looked mostly like the scant others she’d encountered - dim, nebulous, apt to play tricks on the unwary. It was stable, though. Amazing. And utterly beautiful. But that wouldn’t stop her from destroying it. It never did, she thought sadly.

“We do not like your plan, Doctor,” one of the Irinazy said, as Yaz, Ryan, Graham and Kerrah left to do their part. She thought it might be Olinn, who had been the most vocal in her discussions with the Irin, but she wasn’t sure. They were difficult to tell apart, the Irin. Especially within the dim and uncertain confines of a pocket universe. “We did not agree -” 

“Neither did these people you’ve trapped,” the Doctor said pleasantly. “Or the reflections you’ve made of them, taking little bits of who they are and sending them out in the world.  _ Did _ you agree to this? Any of you?” she asked, turning to look at the huddled Felcretions sharing the pocket with her. “I certainly didn’t and I think I’ve been quite polite about it, all things considered.” The Felcretions looked back at her with pale, wan faces. Some shook their heads, but none spoke. “You see?” The Doctor asked, pointing. The Irin muttered and shifted, like dappled light moving across a forest floor. Visible, tangible, but difficult to pin down and quantitate. Which was kind of annoying, actually.

“When the Weavers have gone, they will be returned -”

“Not all of them, though,” the Doctor said. She was smiling, but there was an edge to it, one she did nothing to blunt. “Not all survive the return trip.”

“Necessary sacrifices -”

“Oh, I see!” The Doctor spun in a circle, her coat flaring around her. “I’m glad you mentioned that word,  _ sacrifices _ . Better for some to die, if it means more can live.” She spread her hands, looking at the Irinazy. Perhaps sensing the trap, they remained silent. “It’s very logical,” the Doctor continued, dropping her hands. “Precise, calculated, mathematical. It’s a good system you’ve developed, really it is. By taking a mass of individuals and reducing them to a single quantity, the loss of some parts of the whole is acceptable in the long run.” She cocked her head, her smile sharpening. “Perhaps you lot still have more in common with the Weavers than you thought!” Well, that was kicking the hornet’s nest well and truly; the Irin burst into angry chatter at that, a multitude of irate voices filling the pocket universe like a swarm of angry bees. The Doctor bore the tirade for a moment, eyebrows raised.

She then raised her voice, let her words carry over the unrest. “That’s the thing about a sacrifice, though. It has to be willingly enacted. Otherwise it’s just murder.”

“What else would you have us do then?” Olinn asked, angry. Anger was good, she could work with anger. Anger liked a target, and the Doctor liked picking them.

“Stop acting like the Weavers,” she told the Irin. “Stop letting other people be killed.” She paused, letting her gaze sweep the crowd. “Help me end this, and,” her voice quieted, “make the necessary sacrifices.”

\------------------------

“Come on son!” Graham called from his position of look-out, peering around the corner of the building. Yaz wasn’t sure what it had been originally, because it was missing several chunks of stone, the gaps still smoking. Ryan and Kerrah, half-crouched, darted across the open thoroughfare as Graham watched the gap. “Got it stashed?” he asked urgently.

“No,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes and managing a touch of sarcasm despite his labored breaths, “we decided to skive off on placing the last one. ‘Course we got it stashed!”

“Let’s go,” Yaz said. “The Doctor said we needed to get back to the mirrors before the Weavers do.” And checking that they were unobserved, the four humans set off, back to the Mirrors. To the Doctor. 

“About time!” She greeted them from her mirror, as they came crashing into the dim, dizzying room. It was just as eerie the second time as it had been the first, Yaz noted sourly. “Got the stones placed and charged? Good,” she said, not waiting for an answer. “It’s just about time. Kerrah?”

“I am ready,” the Irin said, voice as flat as ever. But Yaz noticed that the Irin was gripping their sonic very tightly as they moved to stand in front of the Doctor’s mirror. 

“Now,” the Doctor said. “I need you lot to head back out front, with Kerrah.”

“Oh right, I was hoping we’d get to be the bait,” Graham exclaimed. “That’s excellent, Doc, ta very much.” 

“Kerrah,” the Doctor continued, blithely ignoring Graham, “your sonic is a sort of echo of mine, so it should react when I trigger the stones. You’ll need to keep the beam steady, directed straight up at where their ship is. I hope.” She hesitated, then forged ahead, as if worrying about the details at this stage in the plan wasn’t worth the time. Yaz supposed that made sense, though it did little to reassure her. “It’s probably going to fight you,” the Doctor continued, “as the fields repel each other, but hold strong. Can you do that?” The Irin nodded, fingers white around the sonic. “When you do that, if all goes according to plan, the Weavers will be pulled into the pocket universe, displacing those of us already in it, then we close the gateway and snap! Home in time for tea.”

“And what’s to stop us from being pulled in?” Yaz asked, apprehensive. The Doctor pushed her hair from her eyes and waved a hand vaguely. 

“I’ve been calibrating the mirrors to react to only the Weavers, close as I can manage. You should be fine.”

“So it’s just the Weavers themselves we have to worry about then,” Ryan said. “I don’t fancy joining a hive mind.”

“Hopefully, they won’t be thinking about you at all, once I open the gateway and Kerrah jams the teleportation field back to their ship.”

“And the activated lunar stones,” Yaz said. “They’re another barrier? Keeping them from exiting the sides?”

“Gold star for Yasmin Khan,” beamed the Doctor. “Magnetic fields can be very useful, and this planet is wild with them. Once Kerrah jams up the field, it should react with the stones and physically repel any Weavers too close to it, funneling them here, to the center.” 

Sudden weapon blasts, followed by screams. Everyone turned. “Go time,” the Doctor said, with a rather roguish wink. “We’ve got this.”

\------------------------

And they did, in the end. That was the truly amazing thing, Yaz thought. That everything had gone more or less according to plan. At least she thought it had; she remembered the confrontation in only bits and flashes, disjointed shards of memory that were difficult to hold and piece back together. The Doctor had been correct (thankfully) in her assertion that the pocket universe would not pull on the three humans. But she had not anticipated (or had anticipated but failed to mention, both were equally likely as far as Yaz was concerned) that the resonant frequency of the two sonics working in tandem would wreak havoc on human aural cavities. 

Stepping outside and being surrounded by a hoard of pitiless, weapon-wielding aliens had been bad enough; Yaz had vowed then and there to never agree to be the human bait in another of the Doctor’s schemes. And there had been a tricky moment, when it seemed as if Kerrah might forgo the plan in lieu of exacting their own revenge - the Irin had almost failed to get the sonic up in time with the Doctor’s, back in the mirror. Yaz didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the look on Kerrah’s face as the Irin faced off against the Weavers. Hatred didn’t begin to cover the look; it spanned decades, perhaps centuries of cultivated violence, vengeance, blood, and shining, triumphant arrogance. To see those things and so much more painted upon the features of the Doctor had been - horrible. Worse than horrible. Terrifying. 

But that had been the last thing Yaz had been aware of for some time following, because when Kerrah jabbed the sonic towards the sky and activated it, a percussive blast of pressure knocked Yaz clean off her feet and slammed her and the other humans against the ground, holding them there in nauseating, pulsating waves. It lasted mere moments; it spanned an eternity. When Yaz lifted her cheek from the cold, gritty earth, she was confronted with a blurry, pink object. Blinking slowly, her head still reeling, Yaz focused and the Doctor’s outstretched hand came into focus.

“Up you get, well done,” the Doctor said as she pulled Yaz to her feet. “Easy there!” she added, catching Yaz’s shoulders as she stumbled. She looked into Yaz’s eyes, a swift and searching look that felt like an x-ray. 

“I’m okay,” Yaz said, blinking. “I think. What happened?”

“Resonant frequency of the sonics,” the Doctor said, helping up Graham and then Ryan. “Quite a bit stronger than I’d anticipated, sorry about that. Think they might have reacted with the lunar stones…”

Something clicked into place in Yaz’s brain. “Wait,” she blurted out, as the Doctor turned and looked at her quizzically. “You’re - you again!” The Doctor grinned.

“I was always  _ me _ ,” she said. “But I’m back in the right universe.” She twirled a circle, her boots kicking up tiny puffs of dust.

“So it worked then,” Ryan said, rubbing his head and wincing.

“ ‘course it worked,” the Doctor said loftily. 

“Where’s Kerrah?” Graham asked, coming up next to Ryan. The Doctor’s smile faded.

“I programmed the gateway to react to the Weavers,” she said. “But the Weavers and the Irinazy, for all their differences, are still made up of most of the same components. Kerrah was well within the reactionary zone and got pulled in with them.”

“But -” Yaz still felt as if her head was stuffed with cotton, and shook it which did exactly nothing to help. “Can’t we get them out?” But the Doctor was shaking her head.

“We stretched the pocket universe while you were placing the stones, made it fragile. So that when the Weavers were sucked in, so many of them all at once, it overloaded. Collapsed.”

“But -”

“It’s gone,” the Doctor said, shortly. Everyone stared at her, while she spun her sonic and pocketed it, her face turned away. 

“What about the others inside?” Graham asked into that heavy silence. “The Felcretions, and Irinazy who were with you?”

“Look,” the Doctor said, gesturing with her arms spread wide. And indeed, all around them were the forms of Flecretions, struggling to their feet, holding their heads. “Not all of them made it out, of course,” the Doctor said. “Most beings aren’t built to be moved through gateways like that.” She watched the people as they milled about in confusion.

“Some is better than none,” Yaz said, and the Doctor nodded, though she didn’t immediately look at her.

“So where did the Irianzy go?” Graham insisted, looking around. “They ain’t invisible, are they?”

“Gone, I expect,” the Doctor said. “Most of them, those that weren’t holding the gate.”

“And those -”

“Made necessary sacrifices,” the Doctor said. She clapped her hands together. “Right! I think it’s time we were off, what do you say?” And not waiting for their answer, she strode away, her coat snapping at her heels in the breeze.

Yaz, Graham and Ryan shared a troubled look, but they followed without a word. It was what they did, how this worked. But Yaz wasn’t sure if it had to be this way. If it  _ should  _ be this way _.  _

\------------------------

The Doctor felt that she had pulled off a rather successful day, all things considered. And she had gotten to experience a stable pocket universe first-hand! Not by choice but beggars can't be choosers, and she certainly couldn’t call the trip boring. Take the Fam to a fun party, check. Uncover a conspiracy, check. Learn something new about the universe, check. Save the day, check check and check! But as the others caught up with her, Graham’s words floated on the wind and interrupted her thoughts.

“ - shoulda known better than to expect the Doc to let us have one trip without the threat of imminent danger,” he was saying, and she turned around. 

“Oi, alright, I was looking forward to a relaxing trip same as you,” she said indignantly over their noises of skepticism and doubt.  _ Not true.  _ “But when we see things that need fixing… we can’t just walk away.”  _ True… and not true. _ She didn’t walk away from problems.

Sometimes, she _ ran.  _

But her words had the desired effect, as she’d known they would, as the others all hastened to agree with her. They were good people, these friends of hers. She knew how to use that. Something occurred to her.

“How did you figure out that Kerrah wasn’t me?” she asked, curious. 

“You’re hard to mistake, Doc,” Graham said. “Unique.”

“Oh flattery, I like flattery,” the Doctor said brightly. “I think. Was that flattery?” Graham made a noncommittal sound.

“It was the eyes,” Yaz said abruptly, and Ryan made a noise of agreement. “She - they - looked like you, even sounded like you… but the eyes were just  _ wrong _ .”

“Cold,” Ryan said. “Like she’d seen so many things that she just didn’t care, anymore. Nothing phased her; she just wanted to win.” He shivered, and the Doctor clapped a hand on his shoulder, gave it a slight squeeze.

“C’mon then you lot,” she said, still so brightly as she dropped her hand and bounded forwards, the TARDIS coming into view. “I think some tea and biscuits are in order.” She led the way, her coat snapping and the sunset’s light gilding the top of her head. She didn’t look back, trusting that her companions would be following her trail of enthusiasm and chatter like they always did. 

So much trust in her, so much affection. And so little comprehension. No, she didn’t look back, because in that moment she couldn’t. Because she didn’t want them, these bright, happy, trusting friends of hers, to see the truth in her eyes. To realize that for all their cleverness, they had gotten it wrong. 

The eyes on that other her, on Kerrah, they had been the true reflection of her hearts. It was her own that hid the truth of her, every day.

The Doctor’s stride faltered, just once, as she reached the TARDIS, and she leaned her forehead against it. She’d been outrunning her less convenient truths for centuries, and for far worse reasons than the happy, unburdened chatter of those three brilliant humans trailing in her wake. She could certainly keep doing so for them. She could hold multiple truths. In fact, she had made rather a career of it.

The rising swell of conversation between Graham, Ryan and Yaz that moved to envelope her as they all stepped inside the TARDIS… that was a truth she planned on clinging to for a very long time, holding close and dear. 

As the TARDIS bled out of existence in its dim little alley, it started to rain. Each drop a diamond in perfect miniature, a thousand thousand mirrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thanks so much if you made it through this whole thing. I learned a lot while writing it and while there's already things I want to change/do differently, I had a lot of fun with it. I just love this team so much okay?? It was SUCH an honor to be a part of this project and I can't thank the editors enough for putting it together, let alone allowing me a place in it. I highly, highly recommend that you check out the rest of the stories that will be featured in this project - the other authors are just like. So good. So, so good.  
> -Jenny


End file.
